


the flight of birds

by Stultiloquentia



Series: SGA Prompts [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2018-05-28 11:37:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6327421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stultiloquentia/pseuds/Stultiloquentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tiny prompt fill (the prompt is the title) for monanotlisa. John and Rodney make a promise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the flight of birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monanotlisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monanotlisa/gifts).



"Come on," Rodney growled, and dragged John down a corridor in the opposite direction from the rest of the delegation. "Ha- _hah_. Still think Canadians are sweeter and more reasonable than you Yanks?"

John, who had never expressed any opinion of the kind, merely swung his coat over his shoulders and followed Rodney out a side door and into the snowy evening.

Rodney led him between the close, concrete buildings, through a short tunnel, and across a patch of grass, stiff and stubbornly green under the white, in spite of bad weather and undergraduates. Rodney'd mentioned he knew the campus, but it was hard to tell if he was homing on a destination, or was just barreling generally forward, out, anywhere-but-here.

John teetered. Ice was okay, but ice under fifteen minutes' worth of dust-fine snow took attention. Five years on SGA-1, and Rodney still couldn't hike through a Pegasus meadow without tripping over its only gopher hole, but he navigated the murderous sidewalk with a sort of stumpy grace that was either peculiarly McKay or peculiarly Canadian. He was going at twice the pace John trusted his own feet to manage, and wasn't even looking down.

They emerged in a small park with a pond and a willow, and a pair of mallards who spotted them and bobbed over, hoping for handouts. Rodney wiggled his hand in his pocket and came up with half a donut wrapped in a napkin. He donated a third of it to the ducks, who joyfully snatched up sugar and sprinkles and all.

"So.... They want me to stay. On Atlantis, full time, like some sort of sci-fi Mrs. Danvers. They're going to park her off the West Coast, somewhere there aren't a lot of flyovers, and make her a, a lab. A floating lab, a city of scientists. Jackson's over the moon. He gets to have Atlantis and eat his general, too, oops did I say that out loud?"

John said nothing. Rodney kept talking. "It's actually a good deal, a lot of executive control for an Terran chief scientistship. I'd pick the projects. I mean, I'd be reporting to the IOA, and the position would be rotated every three years, _and_ they're actually, can you believe this, starting to make noises about declassification, coming clean about the whole damned Program sometime within three, though I'll suck a lemon if it's less than five, and then presumably grants would start coming in through NSERC and the NSF...."

He stared down at the birds.

"They're going to park her. They're offering to park me. God knows what they'll offer you; no offence, but I really can't picture you...."

"None taken," said John.

"Like these stupid birds," said Rodney, frowning. "It's fucking November. You feed them enough donuts, they forget to migrate. Forget they're supposed to fly."

John leaned in, and waited until Rodney turned his head instead of taking his hands out of his pockets to turn him. He kissed him on the lips. The ducks stood witness. "We'll fly her," said John.

Rodney held his eyes. "Yeah."

 _Away, if we have to_ hung unspoken on the frosty breath between them.


End file.
